


Companionship

by traditionalfire



Series: Miraak/Arya the Dragonborn [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Developing Friendships, F/M, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traditionalfire/pseuds/traditionalfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tumblr prompt from selkieblues: "What have each of them given up for each other?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companionship

It was difficult to see through the tears. So much within Arya’s field of view was covered in red that it did not matter anyway. She cradled Miraak’s head in her lap and tried not to let the hiccuping sobs disturb him too much, knowing that he could not afford any further injury. She knew death, and he was so very close to the edge.

“Who told you to come back here, anyway? Foolish girl! You’ve made a mess of my home!” Neloth shouted, though he continued to work his restoration spell over Miraak’s wounds. Behind them, Talvas rushed from one shelf to another gathering supplies, muttering about how he’d be the one to clean up the mess. Arya knew she should be helping, but she had no idea how. Healing had never been her forte. So she simply whispered reassuring words in between sobs, as much to herself as to the man she held.

The next few hours were a blur of activity and noise. Miraculously, Neloth turned out to be as impressive as he’d always claimed to be — a fact which left Arya both surprised and thankful – as only a “master wizard” could have undone so much damage to critical organs. Miraak would live, and in a few weeks, he’d be at his full strength once more. The price of saving him… Could be considered another time.

With the adrenaline finally wearing off, fatigue and pain settled in its place. Arya couldn’t remember exactly how long she’d been awake. It felt like days. And while she had certainly fared better in battle than her fellow Dragonborn, he had shown her no mercy. The ache of freshly healed broken bones would not allow her to forget his ferocity, and the throbbing of her right cheek reminded her of the moment his Daedric blade nearly sliced her in half. If she wasn’t so agile, it would have succeeded. Instead, its tip simply grazed a few inches of flesh, albeit deeply. Surely scarring had already set in. _At least Nords find scars attractive_ , she thought bitterly.

She slept fitfully, haunted by dreams that she’d failed him.

When she woke, the other cot in Neloth’s storeroom was empty. A moment of dazed panic set in, and she shot up to scan the room before realizing that her erstwhile enemy sat quietly at her feet, arms crossed. His expression was inscrutable, causing her to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his pitch black eyes.

“Why am I here?” His voice was hoarse, but he sounded surprisingly strong otherwise. _Thank the Divines for that arrogant Dunmer mage._

“I brought you here,” she answered slowly, unsure how much he remembered. “We’re on Solstheim. You’re safe.”

He shook his head. “Mora promised you my soul, did he not? I’d say you were wise to turn away the ‘gifts’ of a Daedra, but…” His voice wavered, as he abruptly looked away. “You’ve damned us both to an eternity of servitude. Why?”

Her eyes prickled with tears. “I couldn’t let you die.”

“ _I_ would have let _you_. I intended to kill you myself,” he croaked. The implications of his pained tone broke what little resolve she had, allowing a strangled sob to break free before she could recompose herself. Confusion etched in his features, followed closely by frustration. “You and I… I… We’ll never be free. You’ve bought me decades at most, and now Mora has you as well.”

He reached out suddenly, grabbing her by the arms in a grip entirely too strong for someone who had so recently been on his deathbed. “You should never have come to Solstheim.” 

“Maybe not,” she hiccuped. “But… Then we’d both be alone.”

He released her instantly, pulling away as if burnt by her words. Something finally clicked for Arya. The strongest bond they shared, aside from their common heritage. It was loneliness.

“Yes, well…” Miraak muttered, suddenly at a loss for words. His lip twitched as though he had more to say, but instead, he shook his head, defeated.

“I know.” She wiped her tears away with a sleeve and sniffled. “You’re welcome.”

A faint, sad smile tugged briefly at the corner of his lips. “You may come to regret what you’ve done, Dragonborn.”

_Impossible_ , she thought. _Companionship is worth any price._

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of Arya and Miraak's official "canon," and the start of something more for them.


End file.
